


Affects

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s02e16 Meld, Established Relationship, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26411185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Janeway visits Tuvok in sickbay.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Tuvok (Star Trek)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Affects

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set after the ‘Meld’ episode, where Tuvok’s lying in sickbay, recovering from a violent meld and mind shift.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The ceiling of sickbay swiftly grows dull, but that’s an _emotional_ response: he should have no opinion on the ship’s décor. It’s built to function, not to please. Tuvok blinks and tries to take his mind elsewhere, somewhere more _peaceful_. It’d be good if he could meditate. But the turmoil’s still twisting through him like a feral le-matya, clawing at the walls of his very being, tearing him to shreds. He’ll carry the scars of what he did for a long, long time. He didn’t kill, but he _tried to_ and almost managed. The shame is hot in his gut. 

Shame is an emotion that will get him nowhere. Tuvok closes his eyes and tries to focus on his breathing. In and out, living on the stale air within his tiny bubble. The force-field’s only a precaution now. He hasn’t pushed against it since his last escape. A part of him still longs to, but he represses that cloying urge with increasing success. 

He hears the doors of sickbay open and knows without looking who it is—he’d know that steady gait anywhere. Then Kathryn’s in his vision, just at the edge of the invisible force-field, idly tapping a command into the console. The field flickers away, leaving her free to stroll through. 

She comes right up to the side of his biobed. She did that before, though she was still on duty then—still stiff and proper and everything he craved. Now alpha shift has passed, and her uniform isn’t quite straight, her hair a tad disheveled from a hard day’s work. He wishes he could’ve been at her side for it, could’ve helped with whatever distracted her. But wishes are illogical. What happened happened. Kathryn looks down at him with a gorgeous softness in her eyes and a fondness in her frown. Her concern is palpable, her care touching. He wants to tell her he’s alright but doesn’t betray himself lest his voice stutter again. 

For a moment, they just look at one another, and that’s enough. They’ve known each other long enough, well enough, for a single glance to _mean_ something. Then Kathryn asks, “Doctor, could you give us a minute?” 

She doesn’t turn around to look towards the little office, where the doctor’s peered over through the glass. 

Tuvok murmurs, “I must advise against that, Captain.”

Kathryn ignores his protest, as he knew she would. She waits for the doctor to sigh and decide, “I suppose he should be stable enough now. But _I_ certainly have things to do, so I’m afraid a minute is all you’ll get.” Then he winks out of existence before she can respond. As soon as he’s gone, her hand reaches out. 

It lands on top of Tuvok’s. She gives him a tight, emphatic squeeze that makes his lips part, his blood rush—he shouldn’t react that way but _does_ , because the whispers of his wild past are still inside his mind. He saw her yesterday and wanted to _consume her_ , to leap across the barrier between them and pin her to the bulkhead. His lust is less violent now, but still far too pronounced. A part of him wants her to leave for both their sakes. 

She stays there, right by his side, and tells him, “I wanted to check on your recovery... and I needed you to know that this doesn’t change how I see you.”

Tuvok’s mouth is dry. He rasps, “I almost killed a man. And I treated you—”

“Hush.” When she cuts him off, he instantly obeys. “You already apologized. Don’t waste the minute on that.” He frowns. Apologies are all he has to offer. 

Her thumb brushes across his knuckles, strangely comforting, and then she’s leaning down. His breath hitches, mind reeling—he knows what she’s doing and knows that she shouldn’t. But he’s just too late. She presses her mouth against his, and there’s nothing Tuvok can do to stop it. His emotional regression should have changed everything, but he still feels the same way he did about her, _more so_ even; he wants her, and he loves the way she tastes. She parts her lips to swipe her tongue against his, and it takes everything he has to resist letting her inside. He can feel her smile against him; she must understand. 

When she pulls back, she whispers, “Get better soon, Tuvok. I miss seeing you on my bridge.”

Tuvok nods against his cushion. He already planned to recover as swiftly as he could, but now he’ll do it for _her_. Like he does so many things. Her smile is heart breaking. 

The doctor turns back on. Kathryn’s hand slips away as soon as the familiar noise rings through sickbay. Then she’s straightening and giving the doctor a terse nod. 

She turns to leave and doesn’t look back, doesn’t have to, because Tuvok already knows that his captain loves him so much more than she should.

Unfortunately, the feeling’s mutual.


End file.
